In Late December...

In late December, a divine order Is restored at the edges of wonder. Snow white miracles are gently reborn In children's ever expectant eyes. Warm Fires glow deep within many hearts and minds. Wintry streets are adorned with colours bright. Angels hover, under golden moonlight, In frozen skies at midnight. All the signs Point to pure joys that lie dormant the rest Of the year. Advent's a magical guest. It's the sound of grace in carols and hymns. It's the rampant wrapping of precious gifts. It's the familiar and the sublime. It's the rich taste of vintage, blood red wine. It glides with the sleigh of old Saint Nicholas. Like reindeer's swift hooves on rooftops, it rattles. It's the dream-like scent of green pine needles In the air. It's softly burning candles In Christmas trees. It is a time of true worth; When we await His holy, yet humble birth.